What is the Sound of a Dragon Clapping?
by Blood Jacket
Summary: After the trial before fifth year, Harry and Sirius decide it's vacation time. This is the story of their travels.


Disclaimer: You know da drill ya bastids. I own shit. I gain nuttin' but de laughter and/or derision of dose readin dis crapola.

What is the Sound of a Dragon Clapping?

Or...

Harry Potter an Da Hooch O' Doom

Chapter 1

Our Journey Begins...Badly

Harry Potter was drunk. No, not just drunk, but very drunk. Obscenely drunk. He was so fucking drunk, he couldn't tell you if his toes were on the ends of his feet, or along the crack of his ass. His only saving grace, the one that prevented him from falling face first onto the sidewalk -and possibly drowning in his own vomit- was his arm held tightly over the shoulder of his Godfather.

The two of them had left sunny old England for greener pastures. After a few moments contemplating that thought, they decided to hell with the pastures, they'd hit the beaches of the Mediterranean instead. Well, eventually. There was a lot to mainland Europe, so it's not like they were in any real hurry, but it was a desired destination, so...eventually.

This had come about almost directly after his trial prior to his fifth year. Harry, realizing that Dumbledore all but shouted for him to go fuck himself from his eyes, ranted and raved to his Godfather about the injustice of it all.

Sirius took all of this in stride, nodding briefly, and said thusly:

"Harry, my unwanted sprog from another brother(_and a woman whose ass I would pound like a caveman)_, pack thine bags! We's hittin' deh peaches!"

"Um, do you mean beaches?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah... sure. We'll hit those too."

"What was that you muttered under your breath a moment ago?"

"Nothing! Why, it was nothing at all! Ha! Heheheh..."

With an overwhelming sense of confusion, Harry repeatedly uppercutted a bag of peaches (for what seemed for no reason) in what Sirius called Sak Krak Fu, and proceeded to pack his meager belongings into a duffle bag and found his potentially insane and morally reprehensible Godfather in the library talking to a goblin.

"I trust everything is now in order?", the slightly deranged older wizard asked of his dimunative companion. Harry looked between the two and noticed the rather obvious hieght difference. Why, the goblin was just the perfect size to give his Godfather a-

_No!_, he thought to himself as he scrunched his eyes shut, _must...not...mentallyvisualizethatthought! That path leads only to madness! !_

Shaking his head sharply, he brought his thoughts to happier -and less mindnumbingly disturbing- things, like his impending vacation. Where would they go? How would they get there? How strong was his "Wingman" kung fu? These were the thoughts that flooded his mind as Sirius finished speaking to his account manager.

"Yes, Lord Black", the ancient looking goblin stated evenly, holding a rather impressive -and amazingly long- looking scroll of parchment, "should you contract any of the following venereal diseases, listed on this parchment, you will be cured and oblivated of any memory pertaining to said diseases."

"Excellent", he said joyously.

Harry cocked his eyebrow as he turned his gaze to his Godfather. "Why would you want your memory erased if you got VD, Sirius? It can't be that bad, right?"

"Trust me, Harry, any disease that has "Dragon" attached to it is painful to have, for any length of time, and even more painful to get rid of. Believe me when I say that it's best if you get your memory wiped clean."

"Well, that's certainly interesting. Good to know I guess." Harry thought to himself for a moment and then asked, "Just out of curiosity, how many times have you had your memory wiped?"

"46", Sirius replied nonchalantly, "In any case, with that out of the way, we can now proceed to our intended destination of jovial enterprising!"

"Say again in english?"

"We's gunna have us a right good time, mmhm! Yeehaw! Sssoouuueee!"

"Please, never do that again. It reminds me too much of that time I saw Deliverance with the Dursley's." Harry's eyes went glassy as his pupils dialated with rememberance which he followed up with a shiver. "Pig Squealing! Get the fat one off of me! Police! Police! Help, He's trying to _**rape **_me!"

Harry hit the carpeted floor like a sack of potatoes, curled up in the fetal position, and began to suck his thumb. He then proceeded to wet himself.

"Well", Sirius said after a short, overwhelmingly uncomfortable silence and a quick scourgify, "it seems to me that this little vacation is long over due." He turned to the Goblin and asked, "Can we get a quick memory charm on that particular little gem before we go? I'd hate for my Godson to flip the hell out in case some sheep herder or pig farmer says the wrong thing at the wrong time. That could be bad. Like, "International Incident" bad."

"Of course sir".

"Outstanding! No time like the present."

And with that, they were off. Unfortunately, neither of them told anyone what the hell they were doing. So...Yeah, nobody knew shit.

Their first destination had been the French Riviera. Ah, the French Riviera, where the wine flows like water, the women are angels given physical form, and beaches are breathtaking in their beauty. Or they would have been normally. Their stay in that location hadn't lasted more than half an hour before the portkey was activated.

It seemed that in France, during the second week of August, it was The Morbidly Obese Women's Pit Braiding And Body Hair Appreciation Week. After witnessing some of the contestants in all their gargantuanly fat and hirsuite glory for the brief time they were there, it was Harry's opinion that armpit hair should never be allowed to get long enough to braid, regardless of gender. The pubic hair portion of the events was too disgusting to describe, but it would scar young Harry for the rest of his life.

"Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

"Is... is that woman lighting her nether regions on fire?"

"Woo! My sex is on fire! It burns for your smoking hot kielbasa!"

"...Huh. So she is. Gives new meaning to the burning bush, eh?"

"Bleargh!"

And with the expellation of his last meal, the portkey activated and took them to their next locale.

Their next destination was a little magical village called La Puta Madre near the northern border of spain, just above Jaca.

Feeling a mite peckish after going through international customs, they decided to go to a local restaurant, "Me Puño, Su Culo", for a bite to eat. Not speaking the local lingo, they simply ordered the spanish equivalent to a house special.

"You know", Sirius mused aloud while watching a waitress saunter away from a different patron with a definite sway in her hips in the dim light of the eating establishment, "not being able to speak, or even vaguely comprehend, the common language of the country we're in is a distinct disadvantage."

"Yeah", he responded breathlessly, his gaze just over his shoulder, "Boobs are awesome."

"What?"

"Eh? What? What were you saying? Sorry, wasn't paying...attention...", Harry said a bit sheepishly in the begining, before his voice got distant towards the end.

Sirius quirked an eyebrow at his Godson's behavior and turned around in his seat to see what it was that had captivated him so. Upon seeing what it was, His eyes widened to the point that they could have popped out with a soft slap to the back of his head.

It was a girl -patron, not hired help- about Harry's age, maybe a little older. And. She. Was. STACKED! Her massive, firm ta-tas were gargantuanly humongous, like torpedos cut in half and glued to her chest. They were, surprisingly enough, natural looking, with a wobble that only God-given melons were capable of. The most amazing thing, though, was that they were unfettered by a bra. The thin pink baby tee that covered her torso(painted on more like) did those prayer worthy bosoms great justice. Her short skirt showed off an impressive pair of legs and barely covered an ass to die for.

What a shame that she was entirely too young for him(Curse you Crouch, Time, Azkaban, and an assortment of other things I can't remember at the moment!). Those glorious jugs were beyond his experienced hands grasp and reach. But Harry, on the other hand...

"Holy Mary, mother of Ghandi!", the elder of the duo whispered in exclaimation before turning to his Godson, grabbed his shoulder -and attention- and said, "You must not let that get away! Move, me Boyo, and go talk to her!"

Harry startled out of his fantastic, boob related reverie. He gave his Godfather a despondent look and sighed piteously.

"Sirius, I couldn't! I can't! What would I say? 'Hey there Boob Goddess, fancy a quick one with random bloke #1?"

"Hush pup, Let your Dogfather handle this...", he replied and casually made his way to, hopefully, his Godsons first conquest of...well, ever, really. _Had Harry even kissed a girl yet?, _he wondered to himself.

A few feet away from the Living Embodiment of Sex, he stopped in his tracks, his man-slut sense tingling. There was something off about this chit. She was too...perfect. There didn't seem to be a flaw, which meant there were many. He began to scrutinize the girl with a bit more thoroughness than he did previously. And...there it was. It only displayed itself for a second, and he was sure, initially anyway, that it was a trick of the light. There it was again! A little bit of...something...dangling between her...his...it's?...legs, something that doesn't grow on those born with an XX chromosome. The angle of her dangle did not sit well with him.

Could it be trick of the light? Could his mind be playing tricks on him? _Well_, he thought to himself,_ only one way to find out._

"Excuse me, Miss?", he enquired softly after a tap to the shoulder.

"Yes, what can I do for you?", she replied in perfect english.

_Huh. Nothing wrong there. It might be the deep fucking baritone, or the beginnings of a five o' clock shadow that's putting me off. Never can tell._

"I beg your pardon, Madam, your face seemed familiar at a distance. My apologies for disturbing you." And with that, he turned and walked back to the table he shared with Harry. As he passed by several of the other projections of the fairer sex, he came to a startling conclusion: there wasn't a single woman in the entire establishment. Once he got there, he began picking up his things and made ready to leave.

"Well?", the young man asked, a touch of excitement in his voice, "What did she say?"

"Sorry Harry, the cake is a lie."

"Eh?"

"She has sausage on her plate, not tacos."

"Huh? What the Hell are you on about Siri-"

"She's a bloke, mate, a chick with a dick, a she-male, a transformer, and a whole lot of other euphemysms for a dude in a dress. Grab your things, and let's get the hell out of here."

As they cleared the threshold of the restaurant, it was a shellshocked and pale-faced Harry that grabbed his Godfather's forearm in a death-grip as they portkeyed to another part of the country.

They arrived in another magical hamlet -whose name escaped them for the moment- at the southwestern part of the Comunitat Valenciana. After a brief, but complete, explanation of why they left that horrid little bar, and another round of disgust induced vomiting -now from the both of them- they were really starving. This time asking a native who -luckily enough for them- spoke some english, they found their way to a reputable establishment by the name of Hidalgo's Carnecia Y Panadería, and once again ordered a house special.

After enduring an excruciatingly painful and horrendously awkward silence, their food arrived. Two plates of steaming Valencia Paella con Conejo, Tortilla Española and Embutidos, all served with a random imported beer for both of them. Although it smelled delicious, it wasn't what Sirius had though it would be.

"Where the bloody hell are the tacos, or rose come carney? What about the beans and whatnot?"

"That's MEXICAN food, you ARSE!", Harry whispered harshly to him. He apparently was still sore over that whole "unknowingly-attracted-to-a-bloke-in-a-dress" thing that "almost" happened an hour ago. Merlin he needed to get this boy laid. By a woman. NOT a bloke in a dress. Definitely NOT that last one.

"Oh come on, Harry, stuff like that happens all the time. You should be thanking me for actually catching it before it got too late. Why, if I hadn't found out that the Chit had a dick, you'd be shining his rusty sherrif's badge and be none the wiser until he got up to use the loo and did so by standing ovation, afterwich you'd be playing The Crying Game: Showering in Shame Edition."

"Thank you, Sirius, for that horrible reminder", he ground out while trying to stop himself from gagging. "That was just what I needed right now, you know, right as we're about to start eating?"

The Black puffed out his chest proudly and replied, "You know me. Always trying to help those in need."

Harry's eye twitched as he pulled the beer up to his lips took a deep swig. The amber tinted ambrosia slid down his throat smoothly, filling his stomach with the delicious bubbly nectar of the gods. Within seconds, he felt surprisingly calmer. Taking another swig, swallowing it in tiny increments to savor the flavor, he sighed in satisfaction.

He turned the bottle in his hand and read the label. "'Lupo's Spawning Pit Brew'", he read aloud, slightly confused at the strange name of the beer, "this stuff isn't half bad."

***Elsewhere: England...Somewhere***

"Has anyone seen Harry?", Hermione inquired as her, Remus and the Weaselys were sitting down to eat dinner. She hadn' seen him in quite some time, and it was beginning to worry her.

"Naw", was Ron's half-ass reply; God forbid he commit his whole ass to anything let alone a conversation concerning his best friend.

"Now that you mention it", Remus began as he placed his napkin over his lap, "I haven't see him; not since this morning anyway...Now that I think about it, I haven't seen Sirius either."

"No need to worry dears", replied Mrs. Weasely as she passed Ginny the peas, "I'm sure they're just trying to bond somewhere and don't wish to be disturbed."

***Back with Harry and Sirius, Five Hours -and 18 Lupo's(Each)- Later***

"And Black Kettle and Pot delivered a punishing superplex/legdrop combo on La Amazonia and Pinocha Pequeña! This is truly an amazing battle for the ages, wouldn't you say Bastardo Sucio?"

"Indeed I would, Cochino Grande! It certainly has been a while since we've had a match like this in the Bare Naked Oil Wrestling Championship; why, I think the last time was when we partnered up all those years ago!"

"Oh! Goodness gracious! Pot has just placed La Amazonia into a boston crap submission hold!"

"These two masked wrestlers are certainly giving these people their money's worth tonight!"

(*Meow Mutha-Fucka Meow*)

I have no idea if I will continue this let alone if I'm able. Just something silly to (hopefully) entertain you. Enjoy.


End file.
